A spec in time
by EmbraceYourEmotions
Summary: Her pain, his life: their memories. Together, they suffer through the eye of the storm though only one them comes out unscratched. BxE.


**Hi there.**

**this just a one-shot with BxE, filled with angst, small lemons, death and touchy subjects with a slightly graphic nature.**

**It is advised if you have any triggers that lay in these subjects please do not read ahead.**

**Thank you.**

* * *

_A spec in time: Isabella Swan_

I hated broken sleep.

It was three in the morning when my phone vibrated, the buzzing echoed off the timber bed-side table causing me to stir in my sleep. It was at least fifteen minutes later when I got up to go the bathroom and I'm not aware of the noise repeating as when I step back into my room I fall back into deep sleep until the sun beams lightly through the clouds and my body awakes with a jolt.

I'm cussing, looking for a pair of clean clothes, washing my face and cleaning my teeth whilst running a brush through my mattered hair.

Downstairs I make coffee in a thermo mug after a hesitant debate in my head, then I double-check that I'm wearing shoes before grabbing my bag and heading to the bookstore.

Angela, the owner whom I worked for was a rather elderly woman that held back her chastising at my tardiness for being twenty minutes late when her eyes linger on the dark bags I'd noticed in the mirror this morning, and really, even with her age she seemed to also notice my frazzled state.

''You don't look so hot,'' she states bluntly.

I shrug my bag off my shoulders and place it under my desk. ''I don't feel like it either.''

She looks concerned for a minute but her lips form a tight line as she turns on her heel, sparing me one last glance. ''You can leave after lunch, but I expect you here bright and_ earl_y tomorrow morning.''

Glancing at that the clock that tells me it's almost 8, I nod at her retreating form, and know that I'll barley see her after that.

I greet and serve customers, shelve books, write numerous reviews for novels and just before midday, things start to slow down and after the last book I've scanned from the returned pile I find myself reaching for the IPhone that had been thrown in my bag in this mornings rush, as I get a hold of the device, I open up the un-read message.

_-I loved you_

I freeze while shaking my head at my growing anxiety. _No, it's probably just a misplaced letter. An accident that means nothing, _I try to reassure myself, but my leg still bounces up and down and small hope forms inside me when noticing another text afterwards.

Taking a shaky breathe, I read.

_-Please forgive me_

I don't even think, I press the 'call' button and my shoulders slump when I'm met with nothing but the dial tone for the second time, instead of ringing once more, I leave a voice mail.

''What the hell are you talking about? That better be auto-correct, or a typo. I'm coming over after lunch to talk to you...''

.

.

I can only stomach half of the sandwich that I buy from across the street at lunch and once I clock off from work I sit in the car and try to relax before heading to Seattle.

Somehow, I mange to doge most of the afternoon traffic and when I turn off the car in the parking lot I'm meet with stares.

They follow me through the corridor and to_ his_ door. They don't unnerve me though, it was the two police offers at the door. Waiting for me, addressing me.

''Miss Swan?'' The taller one asks, his eyes are sky blue but clouded with pity when I give him a confirmation, feeling more than worried.

''Edward Mason was found hanging from cupboard at three-fifty this morning after reporting his own suicide, his mother, Elizabeth, who is in the police station at the moment requested for us to let you know if you came out here today.''

I blink, a tidal of numbness settling over me. ''Excuse me?''

I push away from them and open the door to the apartment with twitching hands.

''Miss, please-''

The warm colors that are painted on the walls, the tidy, organised state of the house itself. Some of my notes on the coffee table. I take it all in-_ it's too much_ and I feel tears forming in my eyes, I cast around the room for something to distract me, but everywhere I look, it's Edward. The pair of reading glasses on the counter top.

The knitted blanket resting on the back of the computer chair.

The plant pots resting outside the glass-sliding door.

The photo of us. Of him. Held by a magnet on the refrigerator, and then, just as I turn to head to what would of soon been _our_ bedroom I see the last person I'd expected to be here.

''Dad?'' I murmur feeling my voice break. ''What are you doing here?''

He takes a few steps forward breaking the distance between us and pulls me into a hug.''I'm so sorry, Bells. I came as soon as I heard what had happen.''

I break. Tears now full-fledged rolling from my eyes. ''Why?'' My body is shaking, my arms are gripping tightly around my father. ''I can't believe it. My Ed-Edward, gone, just like that!''

''It's going to be okay, Bella,'' he tries to sooth rubbing circles in my back.

I press my face deeper into his shoulder. ''How could it ever okay, not know, not ever.''

My thoughts twist to that message. The first one.

_I loved you_

Was really a simple mistake, the over-whelming emotion that must of been through his body at the time, or was it really how it was.

I would never know.

.

.

I could of done something, anything. I should of seen the signs and been there more for my boy. Maybe if I was then he would of told me what was going on. We could of worked it out together, like how we dealt with everything else.

.

.

Charlie takes me home and orders two large boxes of pizza to be delivered, I can't eat though and I think he understands when I go out to my room shortly after and close the door.

I can't focus on anything. I try to read, but it's just words on paper, the TV is nothing but images and music hurts.

After taking a hot shower I pull on the comfort-ablest track pants I have with a sweatshirt and curl up underneath the covers of the bed and count my breathing.

Inhale, exhale, inhale. One, two, three.

An action so simple and natural that I struggle with, that I force myself to do because loosing my love has made me have to learn to breath again.

.

.

A few days later authorities get permission to look at his emails and that's when everything becomes more clearer.

Threats: _I'll hunt you down and murder you with my bare hands because you're a disgusting freak of nature._

_When they find out, they'll never want you apart of their lives again, you are either dead or locked away for the rest of you petty life._

Mocking: _Can you hear my thoughts to? I hope you hear every little thing I think about and that it hurts you because you're that fucked in head!_

And numerous graphic images that filled his inbox along with more messages, all from 'A'.

The IP address was linked back to James Reducer- his co-worker, and shortly after that leaked information, Elizabeth had gone quiet.

He'd visited her claiming to be worried for sons health and safety, and after consulting with several doctors she'd cracked and read the diary of his that was even unknown of to me.

.

.

**It's killing me, this 'gift' that some would call was a curse.**

**I swear I'm loosing my mind, trapped in everyone else's thoughts.**

**Bella is the only thing keeping me around, her mind is quite and**

**peaceful to me, but some days that seems to not be enough for my**

**pain. I dwell on the selfish act of Suicide, it screams to me as an**

**escape. I would rather live in the pits of hell then listen to _them._**

**I feel as if I'm a monster and that my soul is confined.**

That was the last entry written in his elegant script.

It was dated two days before he'd been found in the apartment. The day I was blissful in Edward's embrace as we kissed passionately while he ran his fingers softly up my back, un-hooking my bra. I gave myself to him once again, letting him have _all _of me.

I'm breathing in his scent, it's double-mint.

I took pleasure with his arms tightly around me, I'd whispered my thoughts against his jaw when he marked my neck. He 'd growled softly in my ear how much I meant to him and I twitched against him as it send tingles throughout my body.

His kissing me everywhere and I can't help but return the favor.

When he was inside me I yearned for more, more of Edward because there could never be enough of him for me.

Our naked bodies are tangled together, like puzzle pieces- I wished to never leave that moment.

.

.

I break out of the memory when the door to his bedroom at his parents house opened with a small creak.

It was Esme Cullen, she is- well,_ was _his favorite aunt and besides that; the compassionate and soft nature of her was what made her my favorite of the family.

She still wore the clothes from the funereal that was just hours before.

_The flowers were blue, his favorite color and Debussy played through the speakers on the wall. As his body rested in the wooden coffin before he was to be cremated I dared to look at him one last time before being nothing but a memory._

_And that wild copper hair was still everywhere and the light scuffle on his jaw hadn't been touched. That build, tall, muscular body I admired was dressed in a black suit while the best feature aside from his golden heart and personality- the green, beautiful eyes that he had were closed shut._

_I didn't over-analyse how pale his skin was, or that everyone around me comforting each other._

_For that short time, it was just us._

''I don't think I'll be able to let him go,'' I tell her quietly when she takes a sit beside me on the bed.

''No-one expects you to, sweetheart,'' Esme assures knowingly, she pulls a loose strand from her bun over her ear and I can see she's been crying too, mourning the loss of her own part of Edward.

''I don't know what to do.'' I'm being honest with her, because what could I do? I'm lost in an endless abyss.

''Live,'' she says gently. ''You were good to him, remember that.''

''It's not that-'' I'm hushed by her.

''I know Edward loves you so much that he thought that doing _this _was the right thing to do.''

.

.

_I realize now that I am alone and all I ask is that my memory of him stays with me, forever._

* * *

**I do not own 'The Twilight Saga', Stephanie Myers does and I thank her profusely for allowing us to use her creation to write own our stories.**

_**Please, send me a review or PM if you have any comments or thoughts you'd like to share. They are greatly appreciated :')**_**  
**

**Cheers**


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